


Lead By The Throat

by sevener



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Band, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Friends With Benefits, Light Dom/sub, Light breathplay, M/M, We all kno Calum is a tru emo, almost a character study, almost no porn, everything is rlly light okay, i'm not tagging luke/mike because it's ambiguous, jerking off, probably a thousand words of sadboi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 17:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7810426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevener/pseuds/sevener
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So yeah maybe Calum has a bit of a (huge) thing for the guy who he’s been bro-fucking for the past three months, and it is bro-fucking, that he’s certain of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead By The Throat

Calum wakes up too early with an ache in his chest, right behind his heart, and the feeling makes him want to throw up. Calum ignores it.

 It’s a Saturday, which means he should maybe start thinking about all the essays he’s supposed to have started but also means he definitely won’t look at any of it until late Sunday evening. The sun is up, streaming through a crack in his curtains, but Cal can tell that it’s before noon because his room isn’t hot and stuffy yet.

 It’s one of those days where Calum can tell that he won’t be able to properly fall back asleep again, getting up seems like a lot of effort though, and it’s the weekend so Calum can afford to be lazy. He closes his eyes again, then briefly considers a wank, the thought conjures up the feeling of lips biting at his collarbone, marking him up – but not where anyone could see of course – and strong hands squeezing at his waist, wrapping around his dick. Calum opens his eyes. 

 Usually he’d be decently hard by now, be palming himself through his shorts and maybe teasing at one of his nipples before giving in and wrapping a hand around himself, going at it fast and dirty and a little bit too dry because it's the morning and he can’t be bothered for proper lube. But today he’s barely got a semi, finds it hard to get it up when all of those memories are accompanied by a little bit of shame, curling at the bottom of his stomach and sitting sour at the back of his throat.

 Calum frowns and spits into his hand, kicks off his underwear and wraps a hand around himself. After a few strokes he feels himself fatten up a bit more and grunts softly, he can do this, doesn’t need anybody else to get off, doesn’t need _him._ Calum doesn’t need his mouth or his hands or his thigh slotted in between Calum’s own, doesn’t need the press of his hips or the weight of his body pushing Calum into the mattress, and definitely doesn’t need his voice muttering obscene promises while he jerks Calum off in the bathroom.

 His hips are arching off the bed now, pushing up into his own palm as Calum seeks release, his motions are getting a bit sloppy, but as close as he is Calum can feel something missing, knows he needs _something else, just a little bit more_ to push him over the edge. Calum huffs and sticks a digit into his mouth, sucks on it hard before adding another, then finally on an upstroke pushes them deep towards the back of his throat. The slight kick of what’s left of his gag-reflex is echoed by the pull in his gut, sparks shooting up from the base of his spine. It’s not _the same_ but it’s close enough that when he reaches down with his spit-slick hand his orgasm is punched out of him after only a few tugs.

 ‘Ashton.’ The name gets twisted into a moan, half-shouted into the emptiness of his room before Calum can slap a hand over his mouth.

 Calum ignores how the ache in his chest has gotten a bit (a lot) worse, is vaguely disgusted with himself when the best thing he can find to clean up is a sock, then decides it’s time for breakfast - mostly because it’s usually better to ignore the ache than to acknowledge why it’s there – and rolls out of bed. He stumbles a bit on a discarded t-shirt and then again while trying to separate his phone from it’s charger but eventually makes it out of his room and into the kitchen without incident.

Cereal is easy, Calum brings his bowl into the living room and turns on the TV, finds a replay of last week’s footie match and unlocks his phone. There are four texts.

_Cuzmuffin: stayin at lukeys ;)))_

  _Ash Fucker: Caalluuuuuuum_

_Ash Fucker: u wanna hang?_

_Ash Fucker: fine i see how it is >:(_

Calum half-heartedly tosses his phone onto the couch beside him without answering and shoves some cereal into his mouth, it’s somehow already gotten halfway soggy but he chokes it down anyway. Calum glares at the television as if it’s personally offended him, decidedly doesn’t think about the last time Ashton wanted to ‘hang’ (about the brush of Ashton’s lips to the corner of Calum’s mouth before the older boy rolled off and promptly fell asleep, about how Calum could feel the pseudo-kiss tucked there like a secret until the next morning, about how in the darkness of his room that secret made him feel loved, about how the empty bed the next morning made him feel dirtier than the cum that had crusted over on his stomach… he doesn’t think about any of it.)

He stares at his phone out of the corner of his eye for a good five minutes before finally caving and picking it back up again.

_To Cuzmuffin: use protection_

_To Ash Fucker: come over now if u want_

Calum hits send on the last text, then throws his phone down again before he can overthink why he just did that. Ashton probably isn’t even up yet, and he probably has like, work and stuff today, and even if he did come over nothing would happen right? It’s early, it’s before noon and for as long as they’ve had this arrangement between them they’ve never once done anything at Calum’s house, it’s always been quick handjobs in the bathroom after school, rubbing off against each other on Ashton’s couch after a few beers, Calum going down on Ashton in the back of his piece of shit car.

_Fuck_ I mean they haven’t even properly kissed - if you don’t count the fleeting press of absentminded lips after a good handy, which Calum doesn’t- and Calum is already _tired._ Tired of Ashton’s bullshit face and hands and cock and thinking about all three of those things _all the goddamn time_ and goddammit, he’s never needed the comfort of romantic pleasantries before but there’s something about Ashton that makes him _need_ like nothing else.

So yeah maybe he has a bit of a (huge) thing for the guy who he’s been bro-fucking for the past three months, and it _is_ bro-fucking, that he’s certain of. Ashton has stayed well clear of his ass apart from a few good squeezes now and again, and Calum has been involved in enough _just buddies_ relationships to know what that means. Still, just because he _knows_ doesn’t mean he’s able to stop himself from wanting more, especially when he’s never felt better, safer, than with Ash’s weight pressing all the air out of his lungs, his strong fingers wrapped confidently around the column of Calum’s throat.

He’s not dumb enough not to realize that the stuff that they do together is different; Calum’s never gotten off with someone who makes his head feel like it’s coming loose from his shoulders while he’s swallowing around their cock. He knows they need to talk about what they’re doing, both because he’s looked into the choking thing on the internet and suspects they might be doing it wrong _and_ because Calum might want to get in on kissing Ashton’s actual mouth. Y'know, casually. It’s whatever.

The only problem with all of this touchy-feely-kissy stuff is the clinical way that Ashton initiates things between them, the cold sheets that Calum wakes up to in the morning on the off days where they actually make it to a bed. There’s something in Ashton’s face, in his eyes when they first start touching each other, every time, without fail, that makes Calum swallow every aching word he has sitting at the back of his throat. It makes him feel certain that Ashton knows what he wants to say, and is silently begging him not to say it.

Calum puts down his cereal, pulls his legs up to his chest and buries his face in his arms. His throat is dry, and there’s a burning sensation pressing at the back of his eyes. This is r _idiculous_ he thinks, before taking a shuddering breath. The moment passes. And people _actually_ wonder why Calum doesn’t usually do feelings.

If Michael were here right now Calum knows he would have only one word to say about this whole thing; dramatic. Calum knows rationally that Ashton isn’t a _total_ asshole, they still hang out when they’re not otherwise engaged, hence the term _bro_ -fucking. Calum just sometimes lets the aching feeling in his chest get the best of him, because it reminds him too sharply of the look in Ash’s eyes after he’s sucked a mark onto Calum’s thigh.

His phone buzzes and he grabs it quickly.

_Ash Fucker: C u in ten_

Anticipation mixes with the gross feeling in his stomach, which still hasn’t dissipated and is _really_ starting to get on Calum’s nerves. He’s wearing boxers and an old sweatshirt stained with what appears to be barbecue sauce but it feels like too much effort to go upstairs and change. Plus that would be _weird_ because then it’d be like Calum put in effort to look good for Ashton right? That’s probably a weird thing to do for your bro right? Calum thinks it probably _is_ but also thinks the stain is a bit of a turn off and waiting around for Ashton shirtless feels like a bit much right now.

In the end Calum ends up running around shirtless for five minutes before he spots a t-shirt on the floor that most likely belongs to Mike and most likely hasn’t been washed in, well, ever but it doesn’t _actively_   _smell_ or anything so he tugs it on just as there’s a knock at the door.Before Calum can even stand up Ashton is walking in, two coffee cups in hand and a huge smile on his face. When Calum’s dumb heart flutters it’s probably just ‘cuz he really wants to suck Ashton’s dick.

“Are Michael and Luke fucking?” Ashton asks as he toes off his shoes and Calum snorts.

“Probably. I’m hoping I’ll never see or hear anything to confirm that though.” Ashton hands Calum his drink and flops down on the couch.

“Sorry dude but if they come over here to do it you’re definitely gonna hear something, Luke is the loudest masturbator I’ve ever met. Seriously it’s fucking obnoxious.” Calum laughs and takes a sip of his drink, which turns out to be hot chocolate, then wonders if Ashton remembered him saying that he prefers cocoa to coffee or if it was just a coincidence. The way Ash looks at him when he takes an extra long drink makes him think it was maybe on purpose. Calum can feel himself smiling like an idiot.

Ashton picks up the remote and starts flicking through the channels, Calum settles contentedly into the couch. There always seems to be a lot less crap floating around in his head when Ashton is around, Calum supposes it might have a little something to do with overthinking on his part.

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd. there are probably mistakes in this, who knows when that'll get fixed. cal is bi in this, ashton is...whatever your headcanon orientation for him is... :)  
> also cal's contact for ash is s'posed to be a joke, albeit a really lame one. like a play on "ass fucker"...ash fucker..yeah i think i'm funny
> 
> http://tarasenk-hoe.tumblr.com/


End file.
